


Echoes of You

by accioAvowal



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Getting into Eliot's emotions and how the Happy Place functions?, I wrote this like right after 4x05 but am only posting it to Ao3 several months later whoops, Introspection, M/M, Season/Series 04, the happy place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 08:01:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20945009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/accioAvowal/pseuds/accioAvowal
Summary: A delve into Eliot and his Happy Place.





	Echoes of You

Eliot wasn't even sure what was real and what was his mind's fabrication at this point. Ever since Charlton had shown up and told him about that stupid door — Now everything just felt so, _so fake._ As fake as it absolutely _was._

Eliot's mind-fabricated Margo couldn't even console him. They were entangled on one of the Cottage's couches. Eliot's head was in her lap as her hands were in his hair. Even though her fingers were stroking his scalp and combing his locks of hair just the ways he remembered and _loved_... he couldn't take it. 

Eliot wanted his Bambi. His actual Bambi. Not this figment of his imagination made up of his memories of her. She felt like a ghost in comparison. A pale imitation, and now she was starting to feel cold, even her fingers in his hair faltered. His own thoughts were ruining her...

_So, Eliot inhaled and closed his eyes._

_Then Eliot exhaled, and finally Eliot opened his eyes._

It took a second for Eliot's head to hit the couch with a soft thud because he'd made her disappear. Another trick Charlton had shown him that day. Charlton had really shat all over everything Eliot had created here. 

Right now Charlton was resting in Alice's room. Which, since it was based on Eliot's memories was not at all accurate to her real room because Eliot had never actually been inside of her room when she was the Cottage. He knew the wall colors from being in the room when the last tennant was in that room, but otherwise he just kind of guessed how the insanely high strung woman kept her room. 

The only thing that made Charlton okay was that he was not a figment of Eliot's imagination. He was — real? At least as real as you could be in this place. More real than Margo, or Todd, or Quentin...

Thinking about Quentin hurt the most. Especially after that entire "your most traumatic memory" bullshit, and it being rejecting Quentin. Which Eliot had a lot of shitty memories and that topping the list meant that facing the consequences of his own actions really was his greatest fear. He could only see Quentin's face though...his puppy dog eyes just _wanting._

And Eliot wanted it too. Still wanted it even. It was entirely a lie to say he didn't want it because he had wanted this longer than Quentin had. 

Yet all Eliot in that moment could think of was "buts."   
_**But** Arielle._  
_**But** Alice._  
_**But —**_

Eliot had to bite his lip to stifle the sob that threatened to escape his lips. He twisted around so that he was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. 

Eliot could conjure up Memory-Quentin all he wanted and fix his mistake, but it did nothing. Sure, it was cathartic, but it did nothing for actual Quentin. Actual Quentin was still out there, probably heartbroken, and Eliot couldn't do anything to help him. He couldn't even be his fucking friend which was one of the reasons he had even — 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

_Fuck._

Eliot couldn't fucking do this. He knew going down this rabbit hole was something he could not do alone. And he was incredibly, incredibly alone right now. So alone it — 

It felt like darkness, all around him. Nearly like water but thicker and more viscous. 

Eliot had felt like this before, but now it was an almost constant feeling. It was the closest feeling to a hug that he was going to get that felt real. Because it was real. _Too real._

_He couldn't._

_He couldn't._

_He absolutely could not._

Eliot flinched when he felt the presence of someone else in the room. Memory-Margo would have made noise by now so it wasn't her. Eliot slowly moved his arms to look at who he had to have subconsciously summoned up out of the depths of his mind. 

_Of course it was,_ and he was wearing so much black. His skinny jeans, t-shirt hoodie, and shoes were all black. His hair was pulled into a very small ponytail. This was a specific Memory-Quentin the one from right before they walked into that clock. He was across the room from Eliot and once Eliot looked at him, he looked away.

_"Sorry, I uh..."_ Memory-Quentin faltered and twirled his wrist loosely. _"Are you okay?"_ He asked Eliot, like it mattered. Like he wasn't a part of Eliot's mind.

It made Eliot sigh but he still sat up and answered him. Like it mattered, "Q, you don't have to worry about me." He smiled at him, soft and sad. "I appreciate it but I think we both know that I haven't been okay in a very long time."

Eliot wasn't sure which memories had built this version of Quentin. He may look like the Key Quester but he could be that scared 1st year, or he could be the 30-something who was in bed with Eliot every night in Fillory in the distant past, or he could just be the Key Quester. Honestly Eliot was watching him to gauge which Quentin it could be.

When Memory-Quentin seemed to finally move it was slow and measured. He was being cautious as he moved closer to Eliot, like Eliot was glass and if he touched him the wrong way he might break. Which wasn't entirely incorrect, but every Quentin was smart, and most knew Eliot well enough.

_"Eliot, you're not broken,"_ the way the words came out was light, gentle, as was the hand that was on Eliot's shoulder. _"And I'm going to worry about you,"_ he was snapping at him but it was still gentle. He was still being soft with him, trying not to light the fuse. _"You're my friend, El."_

Eliot knew he was just fragments of himself, Quentin, and memories of the two, but he couldn't help falling into this image. He couldn't help the tightening in his chest at how much this man could care about him, Eliot, of all people. He especially couldn't help the tears that started falling from his eyes. "I know," Eliot said as his hand moved on top of Quentin's on his shoulder. "I know, I know."

_I think the real you is too, Q._

_I really do._


End file.
